


Shiver

by papercutperfect



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papercutperfect/pseuds/papercutperfect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, Charles had tried to keep count of their kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shiver

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet, written for Tumblr.

At first, Charles had tried to keep count of their kisses.

He could easily remember number one; a last snap of restraint on both their parts, the heat of their argument still a white-hot shiver in electrified air when their lips crashed together somewhere in the middle. Stolen breath and quickened pulses, a month’s worth of pent-up tension pouring into the scalding press of mouths and hands and heartbeats.

One had soon escalated into two, then three, four, more, another—

Needless to say that Charles had soon decided to only count the kisses delivered to his lips.

Number 38 had been especially wonderful, with rainwater speckling their shoulders and trickling fast to pool warm and metallic in their mouths. Soaked clothes and slick hair, their laughter wonderfully muffled by the hiss of falling sheet-rain. Puddles had shattered beneath their dancing feet, unbreakable mirrors that shook with moonlit ripples. Erik had blinked and sent a tumble of diamond raindrops from his lashes, and Charles had realized right then and there that he was in serious danger of falling head-over-heels in a wet, deserted parking lot somewhere outside Chicago. 

There were the soft kisses, like number 56. Barely any pressure, just the faintest whisper of skin on skin that left Charles aching, his lips parting on a whine as they followed after the smirking curl of Erik’s retreating ones. 71 and 72 were perfect examples of hard kisses, the kind that were rough and raw, the slip of hungry tongues a brutal and carnal battle. Just as beautiful, just as passionate. Deadly. 

Quick kisses. Slow kisses. Kisses where their chapped lips were dry and sore from a stinging wind; others that were wet, deep, enough to burn a man alive from the inside out. Kisses gasped into each others' mouths as hands clutched shoulders and thighs gripped waists; ones that were chaste and soft and usually accompanied by a whispered good morning, like number 94. 

It took only one kiss to break his count. 

Ears ringing with the aftershocks of three little words, Charles had stared with blown-wide eyes as Erik’s long fingers found purchase amongst the shorter curls at Charles’ nape. Drawing him forward, keeping him anchored, bringing him to a kiss that had meant so much more than keeping a mental list of stolen moments. Erik’s fingertips were brands of fire at his neck, and Charles had shivered despite the warmth tracking a path down his spine.

The rest, as wonderful as they had been, flickered and paled in comparison; little more than a beautiful countdown to hands grabbing the back of his neck and the promise of a lifetime hanging in electric air.


End file.
